So I turned off the news again; feels like I slammed into a wall.
You know, my mother used to say, “If you got nothing good to say,
don’t say anything at all.”
A pharmaceutcal has a cure, but only the rich can afford the deal.
While countries needing it the most are left out in the cold
with no medicine to heal.
And anxiety sets in, and I feel lost and confused.
They smile behind a desk somewhere
demanding more than the market will bear,
as the rest of us get used.

Each day the war machine grinds on, as a new peace agreement dies.
Powers mask the corporate greed, while they slant their reasoning
with propaganda and with lies.
The wars feeds the one percent, as a world in trouble declines,
Can’t see how they justify, soldier boys that have to die
just to meet their bottom lines.
And anxiety sets in, and I feel pain and confused.
They command their death campaigns and still validate their gains
as the rest of us get used.

I’m at the pump filling the tank, watching numbers just rolling about.
Thinking something’s got to give; me and mine still got to live,
or we’ll have to cut something else out.
They said oil profits hit the roof, with record earnings coming in.
But as gas prices soar, it causes everything to cost more,
in an economy stretched too thin.
And anxiety sets in, and I feel annoyed and confused.
Their money fills their wallets fat, they wonder where to spend it at,
as the rest of us get used.

Hey, Washington is up for sale, to the highest bidder on the street.
As class warfare of the ninety-nine, stand out in soup-kitchen lines
hoping to get something to eat.
I heard that congress closed the floor, after refusing to get along.
They rejected to coincide or even work with the other side,
even knowing they were wrong.
And anxiety sets in, and I feel mad and confused.
Watching them in the “have” machine, living the American dream
as the rest of us get used.

A sense of sorrow filled my heart, with stories dredged up from below,
as banks foreclose their loans, on the oppressed that lose their homes
and then have nowhere left to go.
Their profit margin isn’t down, but still they levee another fee.
And the ones to pay the cost to recoup what they never lost
ends up being you and me.
That money moves and disappears, in shell companies without a face,
and while the little man thanks God that Enron faces corporate fraud
another waits to take its place.
And anxiety sets in, and I feel misplaced and confused.
I see them bankers flying free with no accountability
as the rest of us get used.

Meanwhile, as executives stand accused, of corruption, greed and more,
saying we earned every cent and they justify all they spent
except hidden money held offshore.
Their promised future is assured, happiness fills their very lives.
They boast their ultra-rich ascent, and flaunt how their money’s spent,
apathetic to you and I.
And anxiety sets in, and I feel sad and confused.
They get away with their crimes and living large in the good times
as the rest of us get used.